


the bookstore

by purplehaze (cat_scomiche)



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: M/M, aromantic elliot, au - mr robot, book store au, elliot works in a book store, painter tyrell, tyrelliot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-12 16:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7941700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_scomiche/pseuds/purplehaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elliot works at the local bookstore. Tyrell is a painter who likes to get inspiration from people, Elliot just happens to interest him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the bookstore

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know any towns or anything in America, so just think of this as your casual small town environment somewhere outside of New York.
> 
> ALSO SEASON 2 FINALE HOLY CRAP!

The store was pink. Well, more of a peachy salmon, but it had uncanny resemblance to his sister's favourite colour. The black inscription reading 'Amelia's Bookstore' was worn on the overhanging sign. The woodwork was white, although the years it had spent being tormented by the sun had turned it a slightly off cream/yellow. The ledge and concrete below was decorated with an array of potted plants, green and purple were the most prominent colours. He supposed it had an old charm about it.

Elliot had started working at the shop nearly five years ago, his Mondays to Sundays (excluding Tuesdays) spent watching the slow trickle of people coming and going, coming and going. He couldn't complain though; it paid reasonably and he hardly had to do any interaction with customers considering how few there were. He honestly didn't know how they afforded to pay him, even though he was their only employee, it still must be costing them nearly as much as they earned. 

He had two regulars, a girl he didn't know the name of - he should get on that - and an elderly man named Harold. He actually liked Harold, he seemed like a genuinely nice person, and he also probably paid half of Elliot's salary on his own. 

Elliot really didn't have much to complain about, he always tried to list things he enjoyed so he could stay enthusiastic. He enjoyed that he wasn't stuck in an office for some bullshit corporation somewhere in the city. He enjoyed how the scent of books was somehow therapeutic in his constantly anxious mind. Elliot knew he had a lot of issues, he preferred not to dredge them up, but books seemed to calm him.

And the job was calm, he was calm, until one day a new face pushed open the rickety door - letting the open sign bang softly against the glass as the brass bell rang out. 

"Hi, I was hoping you could show me where the E.M Forster section is." 

That's when Tyrell Wellick happened. 

***

He had never really been one for actually reading books, the amount of time spent around them would make anyone think he enjoyed them, but he didn't much care for their pages. Which made it tricky when people asked for recommendations, he knew the store back to front, but not what was hidden inside, not really. 

That's why when Tyrell asked him for his personal recommendations a few weeks after his first appearance, Elliot had shrugged. Which must have caught Tyrell off guard because he gave him a confused glance before laughing like somebody had made a joke, and unless there were ghosts in the store, Elliot had highly doubted they had. 

"Come on, you must have something?" 

"I don't read." Elliot's reply was blunt, still to this day he hadn't perfected the art of communication. 

Tyrell was padding around the store now, fingertips trailing over the dusty book covers resting on the shelves. "Elliot, right?" Tyrell looked at his name tag. "I don't mean to sound rude, but you work in a book store and you're telling me you haven't read a single book?" 

Elliot's glare must have been more intimidating than he thought because Tyrell put his hands up like he had just been caught doing something illegal. "Okay, okay." His laugh would have made Elliot flinch, if it didn't strangely reassure him. 

He watched as the dark-blonde haired man continued his adventure of the shop, sharp eyes awaiting his retreat. He must have settled on something because he walked to the desk, two books in hand. Elliot made quick work scanning them, one was a rental and one was to be bought. 

"That's $11." Tyrell paid the money and picked up the rental, striding towards to door. "Wait, you forgo-" 

"Read it. It's yours. Read it, I'll know if you don't." He pulled on the handle, turning it down. He looked back at Elliot, a light smile covered his face. "Bonsoir, Elliot."

He was gone before Elliot had the chance to stop him. He was left gaping after the man, not quite sure what just happened. Why did his customer want him to read a book? And why did he want him to read 'The Great Gatsby'. 

***

Tyrell hadn't been back to the shop since. He had learnt the name of the girl that often visited though - Shayla - he supposed it was unusual, but didn't ask what she was named after. She was pretty, in an I-don't-see-people-often kind of way. The last book she rented was 'The Taming of the Shrew', well technically it was a play, but he called everything stocked here a book for convenience. 

Elliot hadn't touched the book he was given, although he did watch the film. He wouldn't have but he felt a strange want to understand why Tyrell had given it to him. Afterwards, he had decided that Tyrell only picked it because it was a 'classic', there was nothing special about the thing. 

He watched in real-time as the wind picked up, blowing the nearby maple tree's leaves from its branch. Autumn was nice, he liked the way the leaves crunched under his shoes. He also liked that the weather calmed down enough for him to wear his hoodie in peace, without boiling over. It did seem to bring more people to the store though, something about the 'cozy' atmosphere made people want to spend time in their local book shop. 

"Could you help me?" It was muttered so quietly Elliot almost didn't hear her. He looked up to a teenage girl, an assortment of books spilling out of her arms and onto the desk below. Her beige corduroy trousers were cinched at her waist with a brown belt. Her smile was warm. 

"Uh, yeah?" Elliot didn't know why it came out as a question. 

"Sorry, there's just one more I need I can't seem to find." Her frown was lop-sided as she shuffled through papers, most likely school-work, her mousy-brown hair grazing the surface. "Where is it, where is it?" Her eyes widened as she must have come across something. "Ah! Of Mice and Men, it's for school and I really can't afford to buy them." 

Elliot led her to the school syllabus section, yes, they actually had that. Multiple copies were stacked next to each other, and he took down one of the rentals. She almost squealed when he brought it over to the till, Elliot didn't understand what she had to be that happy about, it was annoying. He scanned the books she had, her eyes bright as she took them from him, placing them into a tote and bounding out of the now much quieter shop. 

That's when Amelia, of Amelia's Bookstore, entered through the back to have their weekly chat. It normally involved her asking for any new ideas: what they could do to increase the number of people visiting, whether to up or lower prices for certain things - which usually ended with Elliot shrugging as she frowned at him. 

"I have an idea!" Was blurted from her mouth as she rounded the counter to embrace him. His arms hung loosely at his sides whilst he waited for her to pull away. "Were adding seats." 

"What?" 

"A library. Well, you still have to pay, but maybe if we make it more customer friendly more people will come." She was talking about it like it was a revolutionary idea, he guessed it couldn't hurt. 

"There's enough space?" 

"Sure, if we move it around a bit, we can add a table there." She pointed to a heap of books. "And seats there, and there." She looked more serious now - "Also, maybe we can try harder to be friendly and encouraging to customers. I know you're trying Elliot, but maybe you can try just a bit harder. You're a good person, a good friend, but growing the store is as much about the service as it is the content. Okay?" She looked at him like she was trying to invade his soul. He nodded. 

If Elliot had to guess, Amelia only kept him around because they were 'friends', and for the fact she knew he would never steal anything, or turn up late due to a party the night before. He never knew whether to feel grateful or pitied. 

"See ya, Elliot." She left the same way she came, probably leaving to get back to her kids or something. Elliot didn't really care. 

***

The addition of a 'sit-down' area did actually work, to Elliot's surprise. It wasn't noticeable at first, but after a few months the slow trickle turned into a repetitive 'ding' of the bell. A few of the shelves had been pushed flat against the wall, making way for 3 small white tables all with matching chairs. The seats all had an imperfect sheen to the white paint, and were carved in such a way that they fit into the 'vintage' decorum of the shop. 

Elliot found himself with longer queues and less stock. He also found himself staring into the blue eyes of the man who hadn't visited in months. 

"Remembered I had to bring this back." He placed the worn book onto the flat surface of the desk. "Forgot how pretty the staff was." 

"Thank you." Tyrell smirked. Oh shit, he hadn't expected him to keep talking. "I meant for bringing the book back." Elliot found himself fumbling over his words. 

"Have you read the book I gave you?" Tyrell questioned him. 

"No." Elliot wanted to tell him that he had customers to serve, that he didn't have time to chat, but found himself sighing when he found the shop almost empty. 

"Well then, my work's cut out for me." 

***

"Can I draw you?" Tyrell's voice was loud in the empty store. 

It had been a week since he had visited last. He was sitting on the table furthest from Elliot, sipping on a cup of coffee that must have been cold by now. He had his usual shirt and tie combination on; today's variation was in pastels, a light blue tie hung loosely from his neck, contrasting the pin stripe lilac top. He looked good in pastels. 

"You know, a book shop is for reading, not drawing." 

"Oh come on, can't you make an allowance for your favourite customer?" A smirk threatened Tyrell's lips, but ultimately, he reclaimed the smile he wore. 

"I have a favourite customer, and it's not you." Elliot didn't feel the need to tell Tyrell that Harold hadn't visited the store in a while, which was strangely worrying, instead he allowed his gaze to linger on the man for a few seconds with a disapproving look. 

"Alright, I wont." Despite his best efforts, Elliot couldn't help the almost disappointing drop in his stomach. Drawing somebody you hardly knew was weird, but he wondered how Tyrell would portray him on paper, what parts of Elliot he would accentuate and which parts he would keep the same. 

This did help towards answering Elliot's what-the-hell-did-Tyrell-do question, however. It had been perplexing Elliot for a few weeks now. Tyrell didn't keep to a schedule, like most of the other regulars, he came and went as he pleased. Elliot wanted to know more about this man. 

He _could_ do it. "So, you're.. an artist?" Tyrell looked up at him, surprise evident on his face, he smiled at the fact Elliot had actually initiated something. 

"Well, I'm an art consultant. I meet with rich people and tell them what's crap and what's actually worth shelling out for. I mean, they hardly know anything at all, so I'm there as a guide." Tyrell's smile only brightened. "But I paint in my spare time, which I have quite a lot of when I'm not out of the country." 

"Is that where you were the last couple of months?" 

"Yeah, well for a bit anyway. I was in Hong Kong with one of my clients, he had just bought a brand new house and wanted all brand new art. Lets just say it took some time." Elliot watched as the other man traced the lines of his shirt absentmindedly. 

It was silent for a while, Tyrell took another sip of his drink and returned his gaze to the empty page in-front of him. 

"If you really want to, you can." 

"I can what?" 

"Draw me." And if Tyrell would have looked up at Elliot then, he would have seen the light blush colouring his cheeks. 

***

"Hey Elliot. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out later?" Shayla's voice was quiet. Despite the numerous people browsing or sitting reading, Elliot heard her easily. She came to the shop most Saturdays; she would come in around eleven in the morning, mud stained white trainers traipsing the floors until she stopped and sat in the back corner. 

"I, erm.." 

"Look I know you don't get out much, but it'll be fun. I'll bring a few friends, they can hook us up, if you know what I mean." Elliot knew what she meant. He didn't need to get back into that, it had taken him years to finally get back on track, he couldn't go back. 

"I don't think I can make it." Shayla sighed at his response. He didn't understand why she felt the need to 'hang out' with him, it's not as if she didn't have friends of her own. 

"Come onnn!" She giggled, leaning on the counter Elliot was behind with her elbows, full cleavage on show. So that's why. "I'll make it fun." 

And Elliot's brain must have short circuited because the next thing out of his mouth was an "okay", to which Shayla smiled and gave him her number. She said something about texting him and then turned to leave the shop, smiling over her shoulder at him as she left. 

Fuck, why had he done that? He didn't actually want to go out with her, but he couldn't exactly back out now. It wasn't so bad, honestly it wasn- 

"Hello! Excuse me?" A loud voice cut him out of his thoughts, he looked up to see a short, greasy-haired man standing before him waving his hands in-front of Elliot's face. He should have been paying more attention. 

"Sorry." He looked down to the books on the till, and scanned them quickly so the man was on his way. He had recognised one of the books as being a favourite Tyrell had spoke about. It was a few days ago, he had been bored out of his mind, a slight rain was showering the windows, droplets trickling down the panes of glass like snakes only to come to an abrupt end once they hit the concrete. 

Tyrell had come through the door, hair wet and coat dripping. He looked ultimately flustered. Elliot had thought he liked him better like that. 

He had watched him travel around the shop, like he had on many an occasion, but he instead stopped short and gazed at Elliot. 

"What's your preferred genre?" Tyrell had asked. 

"I told you, I don't like reading." 

"Ugh, Elliot. How will you know if you don't try." 

"It's not like I've never read a book before, Tyrell." Elliot scoffed. 

Tyrell had rolled his eyes at him jokingly. "You need to explore more, you can't just read a few crappy romance novels and decide you don't like reading." 

"Who says I read romance novels?" Elliot smiled. 

They continued their conversation until the shop had started to fill up, Tyrell talking about his favourite genres and eventually his all time favourite books, his eyes so bright it hurt to look. Elliot could have lied and said that he didn't enjoy his and Tyrell's odd way of conversing, but he did. 

He was drawn back to the present by the ding of the bell, and a clatter of books tumbling down in a heap - a peach-cheeked woman muttering 'I'm ever so sorry' under her breath over and over until she had stacked them up once again. She had rushed out of the shop in a hurry. 

***

Elliot didn't get many days off, not that that was anybodies fault but his own. He had specifically requested to work absolutely whenever he could, because he needed structure if he wanted to sort himself out, and it had worked. He worked everyday except Tuesdays, which was when they did the restocking and therefore shut the shop down. 

When he got back to his apartment - a small, dingy place with peeling floorboards and a slightly questionable scent - he usually just wanted to leave again. It wasn't so bad, he had heat and a bed and even a fish. Qwerty. Aptly named, considering his teenage years. 

It was quiet, and dark. But, when he reached the maroon door of his apartment every day it always seemed to hit him once again how lonely he was. Not that he actively did anything about it. Could he consider Shayla a friend? Tyrell? 

Tyrell. The man who baffled him even now, somebody so forward but so alluring, so strong but so cautious. Shayla was loud too, but in a different way, in a quick, over-powering way. 

He supposed he had to text her. 

He didn't go out, not since he was 18 and high on anything he could afford, roaming the damp streets of winter all those years ago, needing a way out. Any way out. He didn't remember much from back then, just that he was even more miserable that he was now. 

He told himself he could do it, meet up with Shayla and her friends, work on holding conversations. But the hours ticked away, staring at his phone and still he hadn't written anything. He _couldn't_. He couldn't.

Instead he lay down, felt the tick of his heart calm his mind, a rush of everything being scrubbed clean. He thought of Tyrell. Fuck, he couldn't stop. 

***

"I read it."

Tyrell's smile made his whole body warm. 

"Only the first one." 

"But you liked it?" Tyrell questioned, his eyebrows quirking. 

"I liked it." Tyrell lit up. 

"Fuck, you liked it!" He was laughing now, a happy laugh that made Elliot feel soft inside. Elliot laughed with him.

"You don't need to be so excited Tyrell." 

"But it's _The Lord of the Rings_ , and you liked it." Tyrell had practically dragged Elliot around the store, hands placed gently on his shoulders, the heat from his fingertips nice in the cold. He had shown him to the fantasy section, to which Elliot had scoffed and muttered an 'I thought you had better taste' under his breath. 

Tyrell had held all three books in-front of him, explaining how they were originally written in 6 parts and were later condensed into 3, and how the films 'were good, but didn't do them justice'. He had rambled and Elliot hadn't expected Tyrell to be the type, but people were surprising. 

Elliot had gone home than night, he had taken the books with him. He didn't know why he did it, maybe because he couldn't get Tyrell out of his mind and this was the closest connection they had, but he had sat down and started reading. He didn't think he would've even minded if the book was crap, he just wanted to see and _feel_ Tyrell's reaction when he told him. He had a strange want to please the man. 

***

Business had started to die down, the Autumn rush had calmed and Elliot found himself breathing evenly again. Shayla hadn't mentioned the whole 'hanging out' thing, Tyrell would come in on Sundays, mostly, sitting and drawing quietly, and Harold was back finally (thank god). 

Elliot had received a few texts from Darlene - asking how he was doing, how the job was going, if he was staying on track. He replied when he felt like he could, which was rarely. She was probably worried, but he supposed if she needed to she would come check on him, and she hadn't. 

Elliot's old habits were starting to bubble up again. It happened every now and then, a burn under his skin, but he could cope. It would all be fine eventually. 

He had an interview. Next week. It was for a computer security company in the city, it paid well, double what he earned now. He didn't know if he was going to show up yet. He had stumbled upon it a few weeks ago, aimlessly browsing online when he saw it, all he could think was how, maybe if he did _something_ with computers, it would help him cope with his urges. Or it could do the opposite. 

The one thing holding him back, Tyrell. 

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something in Elliot's POV that was a little less intense than 'I Know What You Are' (if you haven't read that yet go do it).
> 
> Also bookstore's have such a great vibe and I wanted to put these two characters into one!
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated! I hope you like it.


End file.
